


Mak Gets Caught

by Acemindbreaker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blindness, Gen, Superheroes, Supervillains, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 03:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16055045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acemindbreaker/pseuds/Acemindbreaker
Summary: Inspired by a couple of writing prompts on Tumblr, this story features a superhero who answers a call for help and discovers that it's a trap.





	Mak Gets Caught

Mak hopped from roof to roof, looking for trouble, while his biotech implant let him listen in on the police scanner. Not much was going on tonight—a domestic violence dispute, a mugging, and a bar fight, but the police had those well in hand. He didn't seem to be needed tonight.

“Mak, come quick! Someone's hurt! You're needed at the alley near 45th and Beech Drive!”

Mak immediately started that way, his mind whirling. Who could hack into his radio communication like that? Was there a new hero, who had heard of him and knew he was out there?

He teleported to the roof above the alley, and saw someone lying on the ground. His implant told him they were frightened and wreathed in magic, so he teleported beside them for a closer look.

That was a mistake. Mak suddenly heard a high-pitched noise from his implant and it went dead as the victim burst into a powerful spell, tendrils reaching for him. He struggled, tried to teleport away, tried to shapeshift, even threw a garbage can at it with telekinesis, but to no avail.

And then he felt a prick in the back of his neck, and everything went dark.

 

When Mak awoke, he was chained to a ceiling by the same kind of spell tendrils that had caught him in the alley. His implant was still offline, and his powers weren't working.

“You were a tough one to catch.” The speaker was a man in a lab coat, wearing a black mask that reminded Mak of an opera mask. “Turns out you have two separate power sources. I'm using a jamming signal for the implant in your head, but I had to resort to a magical artifact to counter your innate powers.”

“What did you do to that poor injured person?” Mak asked.

“The one in the alley?” He chuckled. “Never existed. An illusion, created by my jamming device and a sack of garbage.”

He pulled out a syringe and Mak began to breathe heavily, struggling against his bonds. “What's that for?” Mak asked, hating the way his voice quavered.

“You may as well stop struggling.” The man replied. “There's no avoiding this.” He plunged the needle into Mak's immobilized arm and depressed the plunger, injecting Mak with who knows what. He pressed a gauze to the wound as he removed the needle, and bandaged it in place.

“I'll just sit over here.” The villain said, pulling up a chair right beside Mak. “Let me know when it takes effect.”

 

A few minutes later, Mak's eyes started to burn. His vision blurred with tears—or maybe it was just blurring, he realized as he blinked and it didn't clear. He instinctively tried to rub his eyes, forgetting that they were still restrained. He tried to look at the villain, but all he saw were blurry colors in shifting shades as he looked around.

The chair scraped as the villain stood up. Mak heard fingers snapping, and felt a breeze near his face. “Good.” The villain said. “It's taken effect. Tell me, what can you see?”

Mak didn't answer. The villain sighed. “You're being stubborn. Oh, well. You don't blink to threat or track my finger, so you must not be seeing much.”

Mak felt his bonds loosen, and he dropped to his feet. Immediately, he scrambled backward, desperate to get away from the villain, and tripped over something, falling on his butt. He dared not teleport—if he couldn't see his target, who knows where he'd end up? His telekinesis, too, required vision to choose a target and aim where it went.

Only shapeshifting was an option, and sometimes he could heal—Mak shifted between several faces, but it made no difference. His eyes still burned.

“What's a hero worth without their sight?” The villain asked, and Mak thought he heard the man moving, but he couldn't pinpoint where. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get the pain to ease, at least, but it only made it feel worse. He could only hope that whatever the villain had done to his eyes, it was reversible.

“Just admit it.” The villain continued, much closer now. Mak flinched as the man grabbed his knees, leaning in so close Mak could feel the villain's breath on his skin. “You wouldn't be able to see me kill your momma even if I was two feet away, so how are you gonna save the world? I won.”

Mak exploded into furious motion, punching where the breath came from and scrambling to grapple the villain. “Ow!” The man cried, and then something jabbed into Mak and he collapsed in pain. When it faded, the villain was no longer near. “Feisty, aren't you? Don't worry, I'm letting you go. Let's see if you can find the exit.”

With that, Mak heard footsteps moving away, and a door opening and closing. He sprang up and headed for the door.

 

He got lost on the way, but he followed the wall until he found it. He opened the door, half-expecting the villain to come and stop him, imprison him again. But no, nothing interfered as he felt his way outside.

He paused, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of noise. How would he possibly get home?

He heard a bus arrive, and headed hesitantly towards the sound, fumbling in his pocket for coins. “Excuse me? Where does this bus go?”

The bus driver listed off a bunch of places, and Mak picked the one he recognized. “Crescent Hills. Is that near the library?”

“We stop right in front of it, yeah.”

OK, then. “Can I have a transfer?” Mak felt for the door and headed in, finding the slot for his money, and then accepting the transfer and heading for a chair. “Let me know when we’re at my stop, please.”

 

Finally home, Mak curled up on his couch, blinking. His vision was still no better. And what had the villain meant, about him winning? Mak had never seen the guy before. And he’d mentioned saving the world—did it need saving?

How would Mak possibly stop him? He’d planned for everything Mak had. And now, with his vision gone, half of Mak’s abilities were useless.

He needed help. He fumbled until he found his phone, and carefully felt the numberpad, picturing it in his head as he dialed.


End file.
